Former Rhode Island police officer Noel Pichardo says his law enforcement career ended after he began publicly raising concerns about Flock Safety cameras, automatic license plate readers, and what he sees as a quiet expansion of vehicle surveillance in local communities.
In a video posted to his YouTube channel, After The Badge 401, Pichardo said he served seven years with the Pawtucket Police Department before becoming, as he put it, “regrettably an ex-police officer.” He said he decided to speak on camera because he wanted the public to understand a technology he believes was adopted with too little public notice, too little debate, and too few safeguards.
Pichardo described Flock cameras as a sophisticated AI-based surveillance system that records vehicles as they pass by, logging details such as make, model, color, bumper stickers, and other identifying features. In his view, the concern is not only what the cameras can do, but how quietly they were placed into communities.
“If you own a car, you’re now being tracked,” Pichardo said, arguing that ordinary movement through a city can now become part of a searchable law enforcement record.
Cameras That Track Movement Without A Violation
Pichardo said Pawtucket and other Rhode Island cities began signing contracts for Flock Safety cameras around 2021 or 2022.
He described the devices as discreet cameras mounted on utility poles at major intersections, where many residents may pass them daily without realizing what they are. Unlike a traffic stop, speed camera, or red-light camera tied to a specific violation, Pichardo said Flock cameras do not require a person to break a law before recording their vehicle.
“It doesn’t require a violation. It doesn’t require any infraction. It only requires movement,” he said.
According to Pichardo, the system can share vehicle information from city to city and state to state without a warrant, and he said Rhode Island does not have specific legislation governing how the technology is used even though it has been operating for years.
That is the core issue in his argument. Police tools are often defended because they can help solve serious crimes, but the public’s concern usually grows when a tool collects information on everyone first and sorts out relevance later.
Pichardo said he understands why departments want technology that can help recover a stolen car or find a violent suspect, but he argued that the same tool can still raise serious questions about privacy, oversight, and consent.
Pichardo Says The Public Was Not Asked
One of Pichardo’s strongest objections was that residents were never meaningfully notified or asked before the cameras were installed.
He said people may be hearing about the technology for the first time only after it has already been placed in their communities. In his view, that lack of public discussion is the most troubling part of the issue because it means residents were expected to accept surveillance decisions after the fact.
“Your consent was never required nor even asked for or even thought about,” Pichardo said.
He also referenced a local reporter’s exchange with the Pawtucket police chief, saying the chief was asked why the cameras were put up without consulting the public. According to Pichardo’s account, the chief’s answer was that officials did not want criminals to know about the cameras and avoid detection.
Pichardo criticized that explanation, saying it became the department’s “best argument” for why residents did not need to know about the technology in advance.
There is a real public-safety argument behind secrecy in some investigations, but permanent public infrastructure is different from a short-term undercover operation. When a city installs a network of cameras that can track ordinary drivers day after day, a public conversation becomes not only reasonable but necessary.
Speaking Out Came With Consequences, He Says
Pichardo said he raised concerns about privacy, abuse, and transparency when the technology came to his city.
He said he brought those concerns to the same local reporter who had questioned the police chief and also spoke to the government oversight committee at the Rhode Island State House.
According to Pichardo, the response was professional retaliation. He said he received unpaid suspensions, lost a promotion to detective, had his character attacked, and was eventually forced to resign.
“What I got for that was suspensions without pay,” Pichardo said. “I lost my promotion to detectives. I had my character sullied, and all that eventually led to my resignation, which was forced on me.”
Pichardo said he was also asked to sign a nondisclosure agreement after resigning, something he said he did not know could happen in his profession. He refused to sign it, and he believes that refusal has made him unable to continue working as a police officer in Rhode Island.
“I can no longer be a police officer in my state,” he said, adding that he has made peace with the consequences of speaking publicly.
The video presents Pichardo’s account of what happened to his career, and it should be understood as his side of the story. Still, his broader point is clear: if a patrol officer says he lost his livelihood for asking questions about a technology that officials say should not worry the public, that claim deserves attention.
A Warning About The Philosophy Behind Surveillance
Pichardo said his opposition to Flock cameras is not based on hostility toward rank-and-file police officers.
He repeatedly made clear that he does not want viewers to blame local officers, many of whom he said are focused on regular police work, salaries, benefits, and union issues rather than surveillance policy. Instead, he said the public should look at the decisions made by police leaders, city officials, and technology vendors.
Even then, he urged people not to focus on punishment.
“Forgive your police leaders and your city council members, the ones who did put these cameras up,” he said, arguing that blame would be less useful than getting the cameras removed or at least debated publicly.
Pichardo’s deepest concern is the philosophy he believes the cameras represent. He said the system treats ordinary citizens first as potential suspects who must be monitored for the safety of others, comparing that idea to authoritarian surveillance models used in other countries.
That comparison is forceful, and some viewers may find it too broad, especially because license plate readers can and do help police find stolen cars, wanted suspects, and missing people. But the basic warning is not difficult to understand: powerful surveillance tools can be useful and still require clear limits.
A free society does not have to reject every technology that helps police, but it should not adopt those tools quietly and then ask residents to trust that nothing will go wrong.
He Wants A Public Conversation, Not A Personal Feud
Pichardo said his immediate goal is simple: he wants residents to know the cameras exist and understand that, in his view, they were installed without proper consent.
He said he hopes people will use that information to organize, ask questions, speak with legislators, and decide what they want in their own communities. He also pointed viewers toward DeFlock.org, which he described as a loose group of people who want to speak with lawmakers and influential people about removing the cameras from public streets.
“They simply want to go to work without being tracked just like you,” Pichardo said.
That line captures the everyday nature of his concern. This is not only about criminals or police chases; it is about the daily commute, the school drop-off, the grocery run, and the idea that ordinary travel should not automatically create a government-accessible movement record.
Pichardo said he knows not everyone will agree with him, and he acknowledged that police want tools to catch car thieves, stalkers, and violent offenders. His argument is that Flock cameras and broad ALPR networks are not the right answer without transparency, rules, and public consent.
A Debate Bigger Than One Officer
The debate over license plate readers is not going away because the technology touches two public values that often collide: safety and privacy.
Cities want tools that can help officers solve crimes quickly, while residents want assurance that their movements are not being tracked without cause, stored indefinitely, or shared widely without oversight. The hard part is not recognizing either concern, but building rules that respect both.
Pichardo’s video is personal because he says speaking out cost him his police career. But it is also a broader warning about how quickly surveillance technology can become normal before residents even know it exists.
For Pichardo, the issue is not whether police should ever use technology to catch criminals. It is whether communities should accept quiet surveillance systems first and ask questions later.
His message was measured in one important way: he did not ask viewers to attack officers or turn the issue into a personal fight. He asked them to learn what the cameras are, talk to their communities, and decide whether public safety should be built through systems that record everyone’s movements by default.
That is a discussion many cities may need to have sooner rather than later, especially if residents are only now discovering that the cameras have already been watching their streets for years.
A former park ranger and wildlife conservationist, Lisa’s passion for survival started with her deep connection to nature. Raised on a small farm in northern Wisconsin, she learned how to grow her own food, raise livestock, and live off the land. Lisa is our dedicated Second Amendment news writer and also focuses on homesteading, natural remedies, and survival strategies. Lisa aims to help others live more sustainably and prepare for the unexpected.
